The other's face became instantly, grave.

"Calm yourself, I beg, monsieur," he cried, raising a soothing hand.
"I have offended you somewhere; that is plain. There is something
here that I do not altogether understand. You say that Valerie
has suffered on account of a promise given me? To what are you
referring?"

"They hold her a prisoner, monsieur, because they wish to wed her
to Marius," answered Garnache, striving hard to cool his anger.

"Parfaitement! That much I understood."

"Well, then, monsieur, is the rest not plain? Because she is
betrothed to you - " He paused. He saw, at last, that he was
stating something not altogether accurate. But the other took his
meaning there and then, lay back in his chair, and burst out
laughing.

The blood hummed through Garnache's head as he tightened his lips
and watched this gentleman indulge his inexplicable mirth. Surely
Monsieur de Condillac was possessed of the keenest sense of humour
in all France. He laughed with a will, and Garnache sent up a
devout prayer that the laugh might choke him. The noise of it
filled the hostelry.

"Sir," said Garnache, with an ever-increasing tartness, "there is
a by-word has it 'Much laughter, little wit.' In confidence won,
is that your case, monsieur?"